


Climbing Up the Walls With You

by waltzmatildah



Category: Grey's Anatomy
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, F/F, Mostly Pwp, OT3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-14
Updated: 2015-06-14
Packaged: 2018-04-04 08:29:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4131090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waltzmatildah/pseuds/waltzmatildah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>College AU/mostly PWP where Meredith is <i>not</i> collecting favours from her TA…</p><p> </p><p>  <i>Lead me to the edge of night...</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Climbing Up the Walls With You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [safertohateher](https://archiveofourown.org/users/safertohateher/gifts).



From where she’s currently twisted, elbows threaded around thighs and face partially buried, if Meredith lifts her gaze so high it almost hurts she can see the bottle of red wine that had been full and uncorked less than thirty minutes ago is now empty and overturned on the rug between the two twin beds.

It registers that she should probably care about this, but as her eyes drop and refocus, and as fingers she can’t see fist in her hair so tightly she’s suddenly envisaging bald patches she’ll need to explain away come morning, she knows that she absolutely does not.

Care, that is.

 

 

She also doesn’t care that the three quarters to naked, still-mostly-a-complete-stranger arched across her bed, red-haired, passive aggressive _princess_ that she is, also happens to be her new TA.

Her (allegedly) straight, firmly ensconced in a relationship ripped straight from one of the myriad Victorian novels she never bothered to read during high school, TA.

Not that Meredith not caring really says _all that much_ , if we’re being honest. 

Which we are.

I mean, she doesn’t care that she has an assignment due in three hours, or that she ran out of toothpaste two days ago and clean underwear closer to four and keeps forgetting to do something solid about either, either, so…

 

 

Addison moans, the sound as tight and as controlled as the rest of her. And Meredith giggles into the bend behind her left knee as the red wine in her veins courses a trail from her fingertips to her toes.

Thinks this might almost, _almost_ pass for the human anatomy revision she’s _supposed to be doing_ as she reaches insistently for biceps and lips and the softest flutter of eyelids.

 

 

A sharp increase in background noise from the hallway, the base-too-heavy thump and thud of someone’s terrible music choice, is the first clue that registers the fact they’re no longer alone. And the slamming of the door, the sound of a backpack heavily hitting the floor, answer the rest of Meredith’s questions…

_Amelia._

Shit.

Addison has tensed beneath her fingertips, obviously operating under the panic-induced (dis)illusion that if she turns to stone, she’ll no longer be visible.

Her plan works about as well as you’d expect.

 

 

They untangle and Meredith rolls absently onto her back, raises her eyebrows in Amelia’s direction and gets an identical facial expression in return.

“Hey,” she says, the verbal equal to a nonchalant shrug.

She can feel Addison’s pulse rocking beside her and she wraps her fingers around a palm that feels clammy and cold. She’s not a complete bitch, after all…

Amelia’s _hey_ in reply has an edge to it. Not quite shocked, not quite jealous, not quite pissed off, but maybe a little tiny bit of all three?

Mostly, she just sounds… _interested_.

 

 

Addison shifts, sits partway upright and drags the sheet with her, a last ditch tilt at something resembling modesty.

Meredith doesn’t bother with the triviality of the gesture because there is _nothing_ here Amelia hasn’t already seen.

Many times.

 

 

Amelia toes off her boots and unwraps an oversized scarf from around her neck, slowly and mostly for show.

“The new TA, hey?” she says, nods her head along to the beat of her words, as though offering up her approval. As though her approval is something Meredith might want.

Might need.

It’s not, just for the record. And Amelia is more than aware of this.

“Shall I leave you ladies to it then?” she asks, reaches to right the upturned wine bottle but makes no move to indicate she intends to honour her offer.

 

 

Addison sighs then, loud and full of all the exasperation Meredith knows she’ll never actually verbalise.

She leans forward, sticks one hand out towards Amelia, as though intending for her to shake it, “I’m Addison.”

Amelia laughs, nods, and Meredith rolls her eyes.

“Now what?”

 

 

The reality of the next thirty minutes is far more ridiculous than any future retelling might indicate. Three girls, one twin bed, you do the algebra.

But once Meredith’s got her tongue lapping circles on loop around Addison’s once again exposed nipple, and two of Amelia’s fingers have been pushed slowly inside her, are now tapping along to the slow _hummm_ of her heartbeat, the size of the bed barely registers.

Her back arches and her hips push high into the small of someone else’s back. If she opened her eyes, she’d know who was who, but she keeps them slammed shut instead, tests herself, _over and over and over_ , with fingertips against lips and skin and threaded tight through hair that tangles.

 

 

She extricates her limbs with a kind of reluctance she’s not used to experiencing. Moves across to Amelia’s bed with her laptop and sets about submitting the aforementioned assignment before she can sink to disappointing her mother even more.

 _Again_.

Turns out she does care after all, and Meredith may be getting to know the TA _intimately_ , but this is not about collecting favours, academic or otherwise…

 

 

She’s not entirely convinced the other two register her sudden departure. 

Addison’s back to making the kinds of noises that have Meredith reaching between her own legs with her left hand as she types out a last minute edit with her right, while the muscles that move Amelia’s shoulder-blades are completely _distracting_ in the best kind of way.

She gives them ten minutes to themselves and pretends like watching is some kind of _sacrifice_.

 

 

It’s not even close.

**Author's Note:**

> Title and italicised summary text: Hearts Like Ours, The Naked and Famous


End file.
